


LETTERS

by Picpicpic



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baby, Deviates From Canon, Expecting, Gay, M/M, New Dads, Other, Romance, lovers to family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-24 18:22:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14361036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Picpicpic/pseuds/Picpicpic
Summary: As the days go by, Matt and Kelly await the birth of their baby (with shay). Impatience taking over, Matt begins to write.An experiment in storytelling and letter-writing.May be read in relation to  Realization's 2nd Epilogue ESSENTIAL, though there are some differences and deviations.





	1. 1

Dear miss Sunshine,

Sorry, that may not be the most original title, but you see, I don’t actually know your name yet.   
I know you’re coming, I know you’re a girl, but we haven’t actually met you yet or picked out a name (your mother wants to see you first, to decide). So, I revert back to my mother’s ways, (as you’ll find most of us eventually do, whether we want to or not). When I was very little, I mean really very little, probably around 4 years old, “Little miss sunshine”, was what my mother used to call my sister – your aunt Christy, (which I hope you’ll get to meet and have in your life). I think it was because she had a head of golden curls and the toothiest smile. [My yellow head (and as a kid, I had quite a big head) granted me the nickname ‘Sun’ as a play on ‘son’, which soon turned into ‘Sunny”. But I don’t think anyone knows that anymore (well, except you now… let’s keep that under wraps, please)].

Anyway, I think it might be time I tell you what _this_ actually is. I feel a bit silly, actually, sitting here, writing this, but I think it’s might be a good idea… I’ve been walking around for days with this feeling, this need, that I couldn’t explain or even fully understand. It was like something was bubbling inside me, growing slowly, looking for a way out.   
Now, usually, with me, that thing is anger, and a run or a good round on a punching bag, do the trick and let loose. But this time, neither worked, and I came to realize, it’s not anger, what I’m feeling, it’s more like, excitement and perhaps anxiousness of what’s going to happen. Don’t get me wrong, I very happy you’re coming, it really is a dream of mine coming true, to have a family, children, it’s just not happening how I imagined it (we’ll probably get to that later). So, I thought maybe this might help…   
I remember, when I was 17, I was feeling kind of lost and scared, not knowing what’s going to happen, and my social worker (I think it’s a bit too early for the details about why I was anxious at 17 or why I had a social worker…) suggested I write it all down, to allow myself time and space to figure things out. And I found that helped then, and thought it also might help now.

Also, I’m not sure what kind of communication we’ll have, and how open and comfortable I’ll feel talking about things, so this might be a way for me to tell you things, I might not otherwise. And the third reason, (is any of this even making sense?) is that a very long time ago, Chief Boden asked us to write letters to a loved one in case something ever went wrong on a call. My original letter was to your father (I don’t even know if he knows that…) but with the knowledge of you coming into my life, I suddenly felt the need to write you one too… (that was probably what was bubbling inside) only it will probably be more than one letter, because, well, because, being my daughter, you might be my only opportunity, and, if anything ever happened (and I’m sorry in advance if anything has/will,) then I want you to have the chance to know me, even a little bit, and the chance to leave you with something from me (even if it’s only really weird, disarranged thoughts and rambles…).

 

The first thing I want you to know and carry with you is how much happiness and joy you’ve brought to my life. Even the idea of you, the knowledge of you before you’ve arrived, has made me happier than I’ve perhaps ever been. You did good kiddo. Know, that from day 1 you brought good into this world, and made at least one man exceedingly ecstatic (though I’m pretty sure it’s two men and a woman, for starters, who were ecstatic when you came).

Even as an idea, (sorry that I keep referring to you as that… your mother is six months pregnant, so you’re very real and very existent, you’re just not here yet. Maybe potential would be a better word?) anyway, even before you were here, you opened my eyes to realize how lucky I am, to have my dreams and wishes come true, to live in a loving environment with support and love.   
I know, it might be kind of weird that I’m writing like this, using these words, but that’s what these letters are for - to allow me to tell you things I might not usually tell you (and I’ll eventually stop apologizing and go on with it. You’re father always says I’m too apologetic). ANYWAY, I don’t usually take things for granted, ever since I was a teenager, I’ve learned to appreciate the things and people I have around me, the places I get to go and things I get to see. But the day I learned you’re coming, the day I actually let it sink in (because along with not taking things for granted, it also takes me a while to trust and accept when good things happen. I hope you don’t learn that from me, I hope the world treats you right and teaches you to trust the good), was the day  I realized, that though it took a complicated road for us to be the family we are, every turn and choice along the way, had led me to a good place, to a happy place, a safe place: An incredible family that was mine, that I was a part of, that would stand by my side no matter what.   
And I promise, I can’t explain how deeply I promise you, that we will be that supportive and stand by your side, no matter what. No matter what.

 

And that brings me to the second thing I want to tell you – if something ever does happen and keeps me away from you, I want you to know, that though I’m sorry I’m not there, I do not, for a moment, regret being a firefighter. Being a firefighter is part of who I am in the deepest way (that goes for Kelly too). And I’d like to try and explain it to you, so maybe it will help you understand why I chose to keep on doing this, despite being aware of the risks.

At first, I became a firefighter, to prove to myself that I was free of all the things that held me back when I was growing up. Choosing to be a firefighter meant choosing my destiny, my future, my life - for myself, - after a long time where those things were chosen for me.   
We don’t always get to choose what happens to us, but we always have a choice how we act and react. Becoming a firefighter was my way of taking the reins into my hands, defining who I wanted to be.

The reason I remained a firefighter, has more to do with the ‘not taking things for granted’. Arriving on a scene, seeing the pain and destruction that can happen in a moment - in a way it’s a constant reminder to appreciate what I have. But it’s more than that. The ability to help people, to provide the help people need, I can’t put that feeling into words. It’s more than “the best feeling there is”, it’s a need I have, to feel worthy of everything I have. I have the ability, the training, the skill to help people, to save people. And I cannot turn my back on that responsibility. I owe those people, to try and help.

I don’t think this is coming out clearly, I’m not sure I can really explain it differently. In my eyes, I was given the ability and therefore I have to put it to use. Otherwise, I’d be betraying who I am. Does that make sense?

If anything happens/happened to me, I want you to know I don’t regret being a firefighter. I’m honored to be one. I’m thankful for the ability to help people. My only regret is not being able to be there with you and your father, because I love both you to the end of time.

I think that’s enough for now. Sorry, this is so messy, maybe I’ll grow more coherent and orderly in future letters.

I can’t wait to meet you, and I love you already,

Your (Father? Dad? Daddy?), Matt.


	2. 2

Dear Dawn,

(This title might be a secret attempt at naming you, but really, it’s a reflection of my hopes; your upcoming arrival holds with it the promise of sunshine. I can’t put into words how excited I am at your arrival. An incredibly goofy grin spreads on my face every time I see your very pregnant mother. I think she’s getting quite annoyed with me, probably thinking I’m amused at her expense, but the thought of you being here, of holding you, fills me with excitement and calmness I haven’t felt for years. You’re going to be loved, baby girl, more than you can possibly imagine.)

I’m not sure why I’m writing today, except the recurring pinching bubbly feeling. I’ve learned to listen to it, rather than ignore it. Maybe we’ll discover together, as I write, what it really is that wants to come out. I thought I’d tell you a bit about the first time I met your father.

I still remember the first time I met Kelly, in the foyer of the fire academy. He had a cocky voice and was laughing loudly as if to show how comfortable he felt in a place that held most of us in awe. But what struck me the most were his piercing blue eyes when he finally made eye contact. I think I may have gasped. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that feeling. I hope I don’t. They were so blue and so deep, it was like he held all the secrets of the world behind those eyes. But most of all, it felt like he could read all my secrets. I shook his hand quickly and looked away, feeling utterly exposed. I don’t think I’d ever been so scared of someone’s gaze. And though now he already knows all my secrets, his eyes still have that disarming effect on me. (And I reckon he knows that too, and enjoys it, at times too much…)

It took us 13 years to finally accept, that no matter how hard we try to ignore it, how many women we’d put between us, we’d never be as happy with anyone else, as we are with one another. It didn’t happen in a day. Those 13 years were filled with a lot of ups and downs. We’d seen each other go through a lot of heartaches and more than one close-call, almost losing our own lives or each other. We’d lost people we loved and grew closer and apart, but we could never completely let go of one another. We were tethered to one another with an invisible thread, holding each other in place, even when we tugged on that thread mercilessly.

I also remember the day he decided to make us both face the truth. There was no big drama, no great inner struggle or grief. It wasn’t because of a close-call or an accident. We were not in any danger. It was a perfectly normal day, off shift. We’d spent the day together because that’s what we did, we enjoyed each other’s company, we were good friends, who cared deeply about each other. And after he’d dropped me off at my place and drove off, he came back and knocked. And there was no big gesture when I opened the door. There was no surprise candlelight/starlight dinner or wine or flowers, (those did come later) no violently extravagant kiss (those also came later). He just stood at the door with, perhaps, the most sincere look I’d ever seen in his eyes, and said he’s tired of ignoring it. That we both know we feel it, that I make him happy and that he doesn’t want our days to end at each other’s door.

I think my reply was a comment about how he always had been braver than me, and then I let him in, and for the first time since I’d moved into that house, as he crossed the threshold into the living room, it felt like home.  And that’s how I knew.

Baby girl, I hope you get to know that kind of love. It’s more than a feeling, it’s a knowing; a grounding security in your place in the world. It’s was a revelation for me, something I’d never had before, and your father patiently taught me to accept it and enjoy it. To feel I was worthy of it.  
I pray you never know the feeling of unworthiness, I promise to do everything in my power to teach you otherwise, to have you grow up feeling loved and worthy and honored and respected. You will be all those things.

I don’t want you to think it’s always magically easy between your father and me, it wasn’t. If there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that relationships take constant work, compromise, and readjustments. It goes without saying, your father and I have had our share of arguments and disagreements and downright angry fights. We both share an exaggerated stubbornness (so much that at times, as your mother loves to remind us, from the outside, it’s rather comical), as well as a pathetic inability to admit when we’re wrong. (And your father also has a child-like impulsiveness, that makes him do some very odd things). But at the other side of it stand knowing each other to our deepest core and caring for each other extensively.

I think I know why I’m writing, and though I’m not prepared to divulge the details, I will conclude with this: I want you to know, that even if you ever hear us disagree or argue or fight, there is absolutely no danger. You are safe. We are safe. Your father and I love each other in a way that makes sure we keep each other safe and avoid hurt and harm. That’s our secret, our unspoken pact, like the Hippocratic Oath. Our love’s mission is to keep each other safe.

I think I have to go find him now. In a weird way, I want to thank you for bringing me to write these letters, they work as a reminder to myself.  
I love you already, you’ll be cherished and loved and safe. 

Counting the days,

Yours, Matt


	3. 3

My golden Matthew,

(see, romantic…) It’s been four days since Dawn came into the world, and though you’re sleeping right beside me, and though I’ll try to tell you everything I write here, I want you to have it written, black on white, permanent.

The day Dawn was born held two gifts, one I was expecting, and another I could never have imagined. I think seeing you hold Dawn for the for the first time, was as beautiful and as amazing as her finally being here. Shay kept telling me throughout the pregnancy, that we should take more notice of you and your place, and I tried, but I didn't understand. I think I'm closer to understanding now - Your face at that moment, Matt, I’ve never seen it like that and I’ll never forget it. I can’t even describe it in words. I saw your face, your happiness, your excitement, your eyes lighting up, and I knew, again, what I’ve already known all these months – that we’ve made the right decision, that we’ve built our place; our own, happy, safe place. 

I’m so so grateful, Matt, for the opportunity to build our place with you. I know, growing up you didn’t think it possible, didn’t trust it to happen, didn’t believe you deserve it, but you do Matt; you so incredibly do. 

I want you to know, without question, Dawn is your daughter. Even if not biologically, she’s your daughter. As I wish her to be. Because I know you’ll love her and protect her, as fiercely as you can. Because I want her to grow up under your care, influenced by everything you are and everything you give to those you care about. Because I hope she’ll grow up to be everything that you are – caring, and thoughtful and true, and fierce, and loyal and loving and funny, and sexy, and smart and wonderous. You’re a ray of light to me, Matthew, warm and secure and hopeful. It’s the most amazing thing to feel, and I wish Dawn not only to feel it but to learn to be it for someone else.

I’ll write it again, Matt, so it’ll never come into question; Dawn Kasey Severide is your daughter.  
You gave her her name, Matt, even before she arrived you could recognize the promise of light she holds inside her. And that’s why as of tomorrow, as she leaves the hospital and we sign the birth certificate, she’ll have your last name as well, as her middle name.

I never want you to doubt your place here Matt. You are my family, my place in the world. Now you are also our daughter’s place in the world. I love you like I’ve never loved before, like I never knew possible. I’m sorry for having to wake you now, but I can’t not touch you right now and hold you and kiss you. Suddenly realizing, this is our last night before the baby comes home, I’m going to make use of it, and show you, just how close I want and need you.

I love you,

Yours, forever and always*,

Kelly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wink to FrankieFandom


	4. 4

My dear dear baby girl,

I can’t express in words, how happy I am that you’re finally here. With all my expectations, and dreams and preparations, I now realize, I still wasn’t ready for the amount of joy you bring with you. Just watching you sleep is relaxing and soothing and wonderous. You’re so small and beautiful, and perfect. You look so much like your mom, but, luckily and thankfully, you have Kelly’s eyes. Baby girl, you’re in for one hell of a ride with those eyes…

Most of all, I’m writing you to thank you, for even more than the joy you brought and the bond you’ve succeeded to deepen between your three parents, you’ve made me see another, new, side of Kelly, and for that, I will be forever grateful. I’m not sure it’s entirely new, but you bring something out of him, he’s never allowed anyone else to bring out in him. Not even me. That’s your bond, baby girl. He will be with you forever, follow you through fire, if needed (perhaps hell and high water is a better metaphor for a firefighter), to protect and care for you, to teach and guide you. 

I’ve known your father for a long time now (16 years!), yet I’m still learning new things about him. and I think he may be too. Looking back now, I realize, your dad, he’s slow to open, like a growing tree, solid and strong, yet every few years another thing blooms into place.

The first years I met him (like I’ve already written in another letter), he was cocky and sure of himself. He was always brave, but back then he was brazen and fierce, as if nothing could touch him, nothing could harm him. That changed, quite quickly, when we lost Andy. Andy was the first real loss we knew. **Our** loss, not just another firefighter, but our brother, a real part of us. Suddenly the danger was not only close, but it had taken over, it had won. I think it made Kelly realize, he wasn’t untouchable, he was vulnerable too. And it took him a long time to come to terms with that. (Maybe it’s not fair, I’m writing about your dad like this... parents’ vulnerability is something we all try to avoid, both as children and as parents. But it’ll be years before you read this, and there is a point to why I’m writing this. And I’ll ask Kelly first if he’s okay with it. I don’t keep secrets from him, so he reads these letters too, and I think that, too, brings us closer.)

After that Kelly became more measured. Still brave, never backing away from a fire or danger, but with more consideration of the possible consequences. For himself and for others. In a way, I think he began to appreciate those around him more, make sure they were as safe as possible, in as little a risk as possible. That’s when he’d turned from “the youngest lieutenant on squad” to “the best lieutenant on squad”. He took his responsibilities to another level, used his head as well as his gut, began to fight for his sense of justice. I think, secretly, those were the days I first fell in love with him, though it was way too early for either of us to admit it.

 

It was everything that happened with Duffy, I think (and Hallie maybe, as well), that made him add his heart to the works of his brain and gut. Duffy was a father figure to him, and when he lost his way, something of the defined lines of work/life, broke down for Kelly. He realized everything was mixed anyway because firefighting was his life, not just his job. And everyone close to him – his father, your mom, me, Duffy – all of us were entwined with the CFD. He couldn’t keep the lines separate any longer.

But contrary to what he’d thought, it didn’t harm his work, it’d made him and even better firefighter. He was all in, selflessly caring for everyone around him. There were times I needed to remind him, your mom too, that it was ok to take care of himself as well, that it was needed. It was somewhere around that point, that your dad and I started dating. I’m not sure if it’s our relationship that’d opened him up or his inner process of opening that allowed him to reveal his feeling that day. It doesn’t really matter, it’s probably both. I’m just so happy he did.

And now, now you’ve come along, and you bring such a tenderness out of him, such a delicacy, and a new sort of patience. It’s an inner quietness that he’s never had, an assurance of his place, of home. Like he’s finally allowing himself to settle down. I don’t mean that in the relationship-child-house kind of way, (though those may be seen as symptoms of the change happening inside) but, rather, I mean, there is a security in his place that allows him to relax, to let go and just be. And be happy. Maybe that’s it – it’s like he now accepts, believes, he’s allowed, he deserves to be happy.

It’s very hard to explain, I’m not sure I’m doing a good job of it, but I see it, this change, this blooming inside him. I suppose it’s not all you (sorry kid), he says it’s me, and us, and our love. And I accept and agree, and I’m really happy for you and me that we get to enjoy another beautiful side of Kelly.

I don’t know if any of this had made sense, my point was to thank you, that just by coming, and being, you’ve made me fall in love with your dad even more. That was my point.

I love your dad, I love you,

Your daddy, Matt.


End file.
